


Oh So Many Feelings

by urbanMystic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Genital Mention, Implied Doc Scratch - Freeform, Implied Sexual Assault, Kankri Vantas mention, Mild PTSD flashback, Pocstuck, Quadrant Vacillation, Sloppy Makeouts, drug mention, if you even count pot as a drug, rails with pails, some people do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanMystic/pseuds/urbanMystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porrim and Damara are making out like usual when out of nowhere Damara has some strong feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh So Many Feelings

Porrim Maryam was wrist-deep in the folds of Damara Megido's "NOT YOUR WAIFU" tshirt. Mouth-to-mouth, torso-to-torso, they had naturally wound up kissing after Porrim had shared a delicate moment with her friend and quasi-moirail. White cotton and burgundy denim met emerald green linen. Lip piercing met bare lip, and the smell fo soap met the fragrance of stale marijiana.

The jadeblood had confessed earlier,"I guess I always wanted to fuss over Kankri because it distracted me from how lonely I was."

[Yeah,] Damara replied, [Everyone knew. I told you at least twice, but no one ever listens to me.]

"#theCurse," came a giggle.

"#TheCurse where no one wants to accept the truth," The ram-horned troll rolled her eyes.

[I not lonely now,] Porrim stuttered in her broken East Beforan, [You good friend.]

"That is a lie, and your grammar is horrible," Damara raised an eyebrow. In private, her Beforan was grammatically perfect, but it came with a heavy accent. Porrim had only learned this after approaching Damara with an East Beforan greeting so badly pronounced that the short, wide-hipped troll had split her side laughing for a five minutes. It had been the start of their friendship, Porrim's olive branch to the notoriously aggressive Damara.

The tattoed woman giggled again, "It's true." She cleared a piece of hair away from her maybe-moirail's face, and Damara had leaned in to kiss her.

Which is how they wound up making out per usual on Porrim's cushion pile in the dreambubble memory of her hive. Time dead had taught Porrim to stabilize the space, almost too much housing for one troll, with sewing projects and magazines scattered in her respiteblock, despite there being other places to spread out.

It was certainly large enough and private enough for shenanigans. They lay out on the pile, Porrim over Damara, breathless, whimpering. They rolled into and away from each other like a hot breeze over the ocean. The two had made out often, but never gone any farther, labeling it "stress relieving experimentation". Today, however, Damara hitched up Porrim's dress a little too far, Porrim ran her palms over's her friend's small uncovered rumble spheres a few times to many, and soon enough someone was trying to get fingers inside someone's panties. The memory of a warm breeze blew in through window and-

It only took a few seconds for the jadeblood to realize Damara had stopped reacting. The writhing and moaning had stopped, and Porrim pulled her mouth off and looked down to where the delicate hand was paused, nestled in her underwear.

"Damara?" No reaction still, but a definite shift in the air. The redblood was getting stiffer by the second.

[you hurt question?] Porrim asked, trying to get a response. The words were thicker in her mouth than usual.

[You think I am so easy?] Damara muttered.

"What?"

Damara took her hand away and shoved Porrim unceremoniously to the floor. She spat, "YOU NOT GET LAID FROM ME SO EASY." The easygoing breeze was now the heat of Damara's sudden rage. The room was too small to contain her.

"What the fuck. We don't have to-"

[THATS WHAT YOU WANT, RIGHT? A LOWBLOOD FUCK TO BRAG ABOUT? MAYBE MY FINGERS WILL GO IN YOUR WASTE CHUTE INSTEAD.] Damara was in full swing now, eyes alight with rage and body almost shaking from the emotional u-turn. She was a short troll, but her presence was large and heavy.

"You are so not okay." Porrim was half-sitting up on her elbows, watching her friend with wide eyes, pinned.

Damara stood up in front of her wavy-haired moirail-matespirit and held her breasts up like they weren't even a part of her, like they were weapons she could sell with disgust in her eyes, [IF ALL YOU WANTED WAS MY BODY WHY NOT SAY SO. I COULD HAVE BEEN RIDING YOUR BULGE FOR MILES BY NOW]

"You're talking to fast, Damara. I can't-"

Damara increased her display, falling to her knees in front of Porrim and grabbing her own crotch through her tight jeans, [IF YOU GET LUCKY ILL SIT ON YOUR FACE, WANNABE SLUT]

Porrim took a risk and put her hands on Damara's arms, "Damara," her voice was firm but not harsh, "Take a deep breath. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help."

That seemed to help. Damara paused, looking down at Porrim. Her face relaxed to mild fright, and she spoke slowly again, [Sorry,] she was taking shuddering breaths, [I don't feel like I'm here right now.]

[It good. Water?]

[Please]

Porrim got up and came back with water and a tissue. The sophomore rearranged herself on the couch, sitting up with her legs curled underneath her. Miss Mothering Complex handed her the glass of water and sat down a respectable distance away. Damara had a few sips.

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to," Porrim offered after a minute.

"I want to. I don't know if I can. All of a sudden I remembered something. There was an older man." She tried to speak but words wouldn't come in any language. Her eyes were soft, and this worried Porrim more than the rage from earlier.

"It almost sounds like a flashback."

"What?"

"People with PTSD talk about it on Bubblr, and it got mentioned in my schoolfeeding."

[Don't fucking cull me, Maryam.]

"Sorry, I promise this is useful, okay? A flashback is when you remember a traumatic event, and it can cause dissociation, panic attacks, or a bunch of other stuff."

[Okay. Keep going.]

"No that was basically it. It was only schoolfeeding."

Damara chuckled, "You are fucking useless."

"Mostly, yeah. Do you need some space?"

[No, stay.]

"Okay. Do you want me to hold you? I can put on a purrbeast video or something."

[No video. Just hold my hand, please.]

Porrim offered her hand and let Damara take it at her own pace. Her hold was soft, but it seemed to even the ram-horned troll's breathing. It brought her back to her body a little, the feel of water in her stomach of Porrim's fingers on her palm.

Still defensive, Damara sputtered, [Don't think that just because I am soft around you that I will get soft anywhere else.]

"No way. The way Cronus almost pisses himself when you look at him is too funny to give up."

They shared a laugh. The air continued to clear slowly but surely.

[Now say it in East Beforan, desert princess.]

[Don't go soft, please. Scare Cronus. We laugh.]

"Wow, your grammar is horrible," Damara laughed, "That word doesn't mean 'soft' the way you want it to."

[Hard to learn when teacher kisses me.] Porrim stuck her tongue out.

[Hard not to kiss student when she offers her tongue.]

They sat together for a minute in natural silence. Damara got absent-faced again, and Porrim squeezed her hand gently. 

[You ok?] she asked.

[I don't feel like I'm here. It's fading slowly, but]

[I wait with you.]

"Actually," Damara let go of Porrim's hand and stood up, placing the water glass in the kitchen sink, "Get me a towel, I'm gonna use your ablution trap and then go home for a nap and a blunt."

"Yeah, the green towel is clean."

"Asshole," Damara threw the nearest soft object, "All your towels are green."

Porrim laughed, having been smacked with a small moth plushie. "That's what you get for calling me a slut. It's the light green one."

"I called you a wannabe slut. Get it right."

"Okay that actually hurts a little. #internalizedVacillationShaming much?"

Damara stuck out her tongue and got into the bathroom. The time to apologize would be later. For now, she enjoyed some ablutions. The resident feminist tidied a little and tried to work on some reading for a class, but got nowhere. When the recovering 19 year old came out, hair wet and loose around her shoulders, Porrim offered a goodbye hug. Damara accepted. 

As they hugged, she mumbled, "If something bad happened to you, it wasn't your fault. I'm not gonna like you any less if we don't do sexy stuff anymore. And you don't owe me any explanation, ok?"

"Fussyfangs strikes again," the shorter woman chuckled, "Now let me go, I'm gonna go do illegal drugs and take a nap."

Porrim let go. [Bye, Damara.]

[Study your East Beforan, Maryam.]

With that, Damara headed down the hallway and out into the bubbles.


End file.
